Liar Liar

‘Of course.’ He twists from the waist, bending to grasp the neck of the bottle from where he’s placed it on the floor. As he does so, I peer behind him, hoping to see where his keys are.

Really, Rose? You’re going to fight your way out of the creepy cellar with the use of a tiny bottle opener? Or maybe the can opener? The nail file?

But I have to do something because I can’t stay here to pee in a bucket.

‘Thank you.’ I smile as he tops up my glass.

‘Not too much, ma chérie. Not after the drugs.’

Yes, you look after me. So you can kill me at your leisure.

‘I’m starving. May I have a little of the cheese?’

He puts the bottle down on the floor between his feet, twisting at the waist to reach for the meagre provisions. Bread tears and wax paper rustles as I put my glass down on the bench. As he turns back, passing over my dinner, I fumble and drop the bread.

‘Butter fingers!’ I bend quickly forward, the bread bouncing away like scree down a hill. But I’m not interested in the bread.

Not as my heart pounds against my ribs. Not as the scream jammed in my throat turns to a growl as I clasp the neck of the bottle, everything slowing and playing out frame by frame.

His expression morphs.

His hands reach.

The slow spin of the bottle in the air.

Red wine spilling from the neck like blood.

His head rearing back as I spin.

His eyes closing as I smash it against his temple.

From slow to fast, the sounds played out in stereo. His low cursing, my nails scraping the stone bench. My feet slipping on the dirt. The jangle of the keys as I try to jam them in the lock.

‘Fucking bitch.’

I cry out as he yanks me back by the hair. I land on my twisted elbow with a sob. The pain is jarring, my fear amplified, making me feel physically sick as he throws his keys in the corner and makes his advance.

‘I warned you. I said there could be no escape.’

‘I’d rather be dead than stuck here with you.’

But they’re just words. Words I don’t mean. But I don’t get the chance to retract them as he towers above me quite suddenly.

‘That can be arranged.’ His eyes burn with a mixture of hatred and hunger. ‘But not before I take what’s owed.’

Then he’s on his knees in the dirt, his fingers biting into my legs, pressing them down. Pushing them open with his, one knee pressed against on my thigh bone. He catches my pummelling fists, his body crushing mine to the ground, stones piercing my back as we grapple, then my wrists are in one of his hands.

‘I like a girl with a little fight.’ His breath smells of wine and desperation, but I don’t answer. I can’t find a suitable retort, not as I continue to fight.

It’s fight or get fucked.

Fight or be killed.

Body bucking, my shoe comes off as I try to pound him with my heels, choking out a strangled sob as his hand slips under my shirt to squeeze.

‘But not this much,’ he grates out, that same hand moving to my neck. He grabs me, his grip tightening and making it hard for me to breath. The more I try to inhale, the tighter his grip gets. Panic and pain fill my chest and my head. I feel like I’m about to burst. There literally isn’t space for anything else inside me but this and fear as I clawing at his hand, claw at my neck.

And then it’s not so hard to breathe anymore because the room begins to go dark.

Pain follows darkness immediately. My throat feels crushed and I’m gasping, swallowing, desperately trying to inhale, desperately trying to breathe.

Just breathe.

Just breathe.

Just breathe.

Slowly, my focus begins to shift away from the pain in my chest and neck and my head, my lungs expanding, my body working as it should. But this shift brings me to another terror as I become aware of his fingers at the button of my pants. Something digging into my spine. The popping of buttons, another fierce squeeze. But I have bigger issues than his groping hands. Like staying alive.

‘I warned you,’ he hisses, spittle hitting my face. His mouth is wet and unwanted, the front of my blouse rending, the waistband of my pants digging into my hips. ‘I warned you.’

I push ineffectually as he lowers his head again, his excitement a hot breath at my ear, a grasping between my legs.

A bang, loud and clear, resounds through the space, my ears beginning to ring.

And then my hands are hitting nothing but air, the weight of him no longer there.

I roll into a ball, tears changing direction as they roll across my cheeks, fat and wet. Scuffles. Yells. Curses. I roll again, this time onto my hands and my knees as dirt flicks up my arm.